


I need you mine

by rohesia



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anne's POV, F/F, Moments, No Plot/Plotless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-21 00:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9523031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohesia/pseuds/rohesia
Summary: She replays it in her mind every time she sees lipstick stains on mugs, glasses; every time her neighbor plays the violin downstairs, going out of tune and echoing the shortness of her breaths, how they had tumbled from her lips into Max’s. [...]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspired by Ease my mind by Hayley Kiyoko - which you should all listen to.  
> These are just random moments, so don't expect a real plot. Although there is _some_ kind of continuity.  
>  I just felt the need to write this after watching 4x01 and realizing, AGAIN, how much I miss them :(  
> Enjoy!

i.

Lipstick traces on a coffee mug, a telephone number scribbled on her wrist and ghost fingers still burning where Max had grabber her to keep her arm steady.

“I think that’s a bit excessive. You could have just handed her your phone.”

“Shut up, Jack.”

ii.

“You own a record player.”

She says that like she always says anything else: like she’s just confirmed a suspicion and is pleased to be proven right.

“Bet you can’t guess which one I’m gonna play for you.”

“Specifically for me?”

She also does that. Undoes her with a smile and a tilt of her head, curls moving gracefully, like she’d planned it in advance. Or, that's what falling for someone feels like. Getting possessed by a chick lit writer.

“Don’t do that.”

Do it more. Please don’t stop. 

Max bites into her lower lip, following Anne’s trail of thoughts easily. She closes the distance between them and takes her hand, her thumb caressing its back.

“Show me your collection and I’ll try to guess.”

She doesn’t. Anne is pleased. 

 

iii.

She replays it in her mind every time she sees lipstick stains on mugs, glasses; every time her neighbor plays the violin downstairs, going out of tune and echoing the shortness of her breaths, how they had tumbled from her lips into Max’s. 

She thinks about it when she looks at her phone and sees the picture Max set as her wallpaper when she wasn’t looking. It’s Max and Jack arm wrestling. Or better, Max winning easily and Jack red as a lobster looking into the camera with a mortified expression. 

Anna had laughed like thunder after, holding Max to her side and letting her laugh into her neck. 

She lets it intrude into her busy thoughts when she’s working at the _Colonial Dawn_ , immediately relaxing and getting restless at the same time. It makes her even forget to punch Jack in the arm every time she remembers he called their tattoo shop fucking Colonial Dawn. 

 

iv.

Whispers in her ear, hot breath tickling her and travelling all over her body like lightning, leaving her reeling.

“Girls, we are in the house of God and our friends are getting married.”

Anne couldn’t give a rotten fuck. Also, the wedding is far more entertaining with Max commenting on every last detail directly into her ear, one hand holding her wrist, the other resting placidly on Anne’s knee.

“You look like an extra from Saturday Night Fever, can’t exactly call it a godly look.”

Jack sighs, defeated, and looks ahead, just as John stumbles on his words for the first time in his life and makes James smile like she’s never seen him.

Max’s lips curls on her cheek, mirroring her smirk.

 

v.

_Anne. Anne. Ma chère. Anne. Ma chère. Sirène. Anne_. 

3 am, her naked body pressed against Max’s and spring dying out of her bedroom’s window. Max’s voice grows into whispers, lulling her to sleep.

“Sirène?” 

She feels Max brush a lock of hair from her face and imagines her languid smile.

“I wish I could take pictures of your hair underwater.”

“’t’s almost summer,” says Anne, sleep gifting her the illusion of sea breeze, salty kisses and clear starry skies on random rooftops. She wants to ask Max if she’s ever seen the city from the top of a skyscraper but she can’t translate it into words.

“You would let me?”

This is easy to translate. Like screaming at the top of her lungs at the rising sun from a rooftop, free and happy and _Anne_.

“I’d let you everything,” 

She’s sure she’s sleeping, but she can’t know. Max’s hands in her hair are as soft as dream and her lips are like searing devotion on her eyelids.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos make authors happy :D


End file.
